


Stay

by dream_vs_nightmare



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Captain Beauty, Captain Book, F/M, Hooked Beauty, Hurt/Comfort, I'd say I'm sorry but I'm rly not, idk wtf their ship name is it's AU Killian x Belle okay?, minor D/s relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 17:05:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14981663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dream_vs_nightmare/pseuds/dream_vs_nightmare
Summary: Killian, Belle, and the tumblr prompt: I would've stayed if you'd asked.





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> Mkay so now that I've given y'all the tacos fic, it's time for that sweet, sweet angst. Why? Because *𝐸𝑣𝑖𝑙 𝑄𝑢𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑉𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒* this is 𝘮𝘺 happy ending. Nah, jk, I just really fucking love angst and it tugs at my heart when two characters are yearning for each other but can't have each other, or there's miscommunication and both are left hurting, or...gah. All. Of. The. Angst.
> 
> There's hints of Killian and Belle's Dom/sub vibes here too (if you aren't 18+ or dunno what that means, just know it's a power dynamic between two consenting adults), where he's really vulnerable here but also worried she's through with him. So she asks (not orders, not commands) for him to stay.

"I would've stayed if you'd asked." It's a quiet thing said between them as he leans against the great library doors, watching her expression as it shifts and changes.

She'd been trying her best to look unaffected and stoic before, but it's like the words undo even her resolve and she whispers a broken, strained, " _Don't."_

Killian's not been a decent man for most of his life. He's not been a good man. He'd thought that part of him died long ago, the same night Liam had. His only brother, his best friend, and the man who'd often reminded him of what hope and optimism and faith looked like...he'd died. And Killian had sought to metaphorically bury his own heart so he wouldn't feel a damned thing again, because that was better than grieving over the brother he'd never see breathing again. It was better than laying awake long into the night and drowning in his own self-hatred. And then a century later, he'd met Milah, and she'd softened some of the most hardened part of his heart the longer they were together. But then she'd died too, and he wanted to freeze his heart, drown it in the ocean, crush it to dust between his own fingers because the pain _hurt_ so fucking much.

And now he's looking at Belle, watching the cheery, composed facade slip away and shatter at their feet. He's not a decent man, hasn't been in a long time - and he'd told her that before they'd gotten into things, told her that long before they were in love. He's not a decent man, not a good man, but even he cannot take watching his love cry. He crosses the room to meet her where she stands (and it's almost funny, because hadn't she once met him where _he_ was? Emotionally, mentally, physically...) and brushes away her tears with the pad of his thumb. She shudders at his touch but doesn't pull away.

"I would've, and you know it."

She has her eyes closed now so she won't have to look at him.

" _Liar."_ It's such a sharp word on her soft lips, and he has to wonder if that's Belle or Lacey or both of them, thinks he surely deserves the jab.

His leaving had hurt her, cut deep, and he can see it in the tight lines of her face and hear it in the shallow sound of her breathing.

"I didn't - _don't_ \- deserve you and--" But she's cutting him off, eyes flying open to look right into his own when she says, "Killian Jones, that is a bloody cop-out and you know it."

A cop-out. What the hell that does mean? He isn't sure but doesn't want to ask - doesn't think he's got the right to ask given their current situation. He isn't yet accustomed to this world's language usage, finds himself sluggish and slow to learn even after all the years he'd lived here. And to think it was all once for revenge against the Crocodile...

She'd sought to teach him, to help him, and they'd spend many a night sat in one of the library's cosy studying nooks with their heads bent close together over a book. She'd wanted to help him make sense of this world, of things he didn't yet understand, and he thinks that looking back on it now, he'd not even known that he was falling for her even then. Suddenly, desperately, unendingly.

"What would you have me do?" He is looking at her with the sudden realization that he is going to lose her. He loves her and he's fucked it all up and now he's going to lose her. But not to death. Because that would be too easy, that would be the running theme of his life. No, he's going to lose her to his own sense of sharp-tongued self-depreciation, to his own ever-present sense of self-hatred. And that's _worse_ , now, because he'd stopped drinking a month ago. So he'd not even be able to drown his sorrows at the bottom of a bottle.  
  
Belle scrunches up her face in confusion and were they not arguing (is this an argument? He's used to a different sort, the sort with things left unsaid, silent resentment, and doors slammed in his face), he'd lean over the circulation desk and kiss the look off her face. But they are. They are and she's not his to kiss anymore, not that he'd ever owned her - he hadn't sought to own her.  
  
"Killian, I don't understand what you're asking."

"To make amends. Atone. You know I'd get on my knees for you if you'd ask, and I just--" His voice is heavy with the weight of his own shame and sorrow, now. He wants to reach for her, ghost his thumb along her jawline or trail his finger over her bottom lip or cradle her head in his hand or lean in to embrace her and never let go. "I fucked up. Completely. _Royally_. I shouldn't have left. And I want to make that right."

"What if you can't? What if _we_ can't?" Belle's eyes are growing misty, like fog over the ocean just before a storm and he _hates_ himself.

And even so, his traitorous breath hitches in his throat when he realizes she'd said _we._ Like there's a chance for them. Like there's still _hope_.

"Can we try?" He doesn't dare ask anything more from her. This is already too much. They're already too broken - or rather, _he_  is already too broken.

Her eyes are still wet when she meets his gaze and cups his cheek in her hand. He falls into it, into her, eyes closing as he revels in the familiar feeling of her fingers over his skin.

"Killian..." She starts, and he's quick to whisper, "I can go, if you want. If you need me to."

"I _never_ want you to. D'you hear me, Killian Jones?"

He nods his head minutely, afraid to move much more than that lest it break the spell that's surely fallen over her (because he doesn't deserve her touch, her care), and she doesn't pull her hand away. They linger like that some time, and he doesn't know if it's moments or minutes later when she utters the word he never thought he'd hear her say again: stay.

It's not like the commands she'd give when they were between the sheets together. It's softer than that - at once a request and a question. Heart beating hard against his rib cage, he nods again as their foreheads come to rest against each other. He sucks in a deep lungful of air and breathes her in, breathes them in. Old books, leather, perfume, the earth after a long rain, and the salt of the sea.  
  
"For as long as you want me." It's on his tongue before he can think to take it back or regret it. But he knows well that Belle isn't Emma, that he doesn't have to regret being soft, vulnerable, around her. Because she does the same for him.

"Always, then. Forever."

He isn't sure who reaches out first, isn't sure which one of them closes the distance between their lips and which one welcomes it. But then they are kissing and she's pulling him in close, damning the circulation desk for getting in the way, and he's whispering that he loves her. _Oh._ His eyes fly open at the sentiment and so do hers. They'd not said it before, not in words. In gestures, in actions, often, but they hadn't physically, verbally _said it before._ So he's still half-waiting for her refusal, for her to say that she doesn't, or that this isn't - that  _he_ \- isn't what she wants anymore.

But then she says something incredible, words like a kiss just after the rain. "I love you too."

It's all he needs and then some, and then there aren't any words. Just mouths and hands and heat, breath, laughter. He is _hers_ as much as she is _his_ , and he thinks this proves it.

"Don't think you're out of the woods just yet." Belle murmurs when they finally pull away from each other, words softened by the way she nuzzles her nose against his.

"I know I'm not, love." Killian says in kind before pressing a kiss to her cheek and whispering a soft, genuine, " _Thank you."_

**Author's Note:**

> I regret nothing.
> 
> Listen. Linda, Linda, honey, listen.
> 
> I was nice bc I didn't break them up 𝘰𝘳 leave things on a cliffhanger, even though I totally could've. 
> 
> On a semi-related note, I'm also planning on writing alll the Captain Beauty fics. Because RPing them together with the fabulous Cookie as my writing partner gives me lyyyfe and imagining how their relationship would go just fucks me up but in the 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 way.


End file.
